


Adventure Is Out There

by notfreyja, Straight_Outta_Hobbiton



Series: Doubt The Stars [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Kid Fic, M/M, Pon Farr, warning: the hobbit killed the dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7580593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notfreyja/pseuds/notfreyja, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton/pseuds/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regardless of her feelings about parenthood, Winona will be dead before she leaves her last remaining link to George on Earth.</p>
<p>Jim is just the average, everyday, Starfleet-brat boy genius. His time is split between the mostly-Vulcan engineering crew and raising hell on the rest of the ship. If anybody (including Jim) knew the details of what occurred during his first trip to Vulcan, they wouldn't be surprised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's 6:30 in the morning as we post this. This is what happens when two insomniac Trekkies start worldbuilding and get too invested.
> 
> This is gonna be a long one.
> 
>  
> 
> Edit: [Here's the playlist](https://8tracks.com/starhobbit/adventure-is-out-there#smart_id=dj:16203706) for this fic.

Pike thought that seeing Winona with her sons would somehow soften her, as if the consistent warm glow of human motherhood would find her in the vacuum of space. Chris supposes he thought that, in this regard at least, she would be normal. He doesn’t know why, but he did.

 

At a measly five foot four inches, she still manages somehow to tower over the rest of her engineering crew— a crew made up mostly of Vulcan men, at this point. Her older boy— Sam, if Pike remembers correctly— has his hands bunched in his mother’s shirt, peering around her elbow apprehensively as the machines rumble around him. The baby in her arms is a bald, happy thing, smiling toothlessly and clapping with each hiss of steam. Both children are a stark contrast to their mother: sharp and too thin and eyes like ice chips in her face that, were it wearing any expressions other than those of his Chief Engineer, would be called pretty.

 

Pike gathers his courage to stop the human hurricane before it blows right past him and tears straight through his engine room. “So, these are the boys, then," he offers lamely.

 

Winona looks him over like she’s debating the ways she could kill him without dropping the kid. He’s beginning to worry that she may be approaching a solution when the tension breaks.

 

"Sam," she barks finally. "Say hello to Captain Pike."

 

Sam blinks up at him, all doe-eyed and nervous.

 

"Hello, Captain Pike," he says obediently, untangling one hand to give a little wave.

 

Chris smiles.

 

"Hello, Sam," he says. "I’ve heard a lot about you."

 

"And this is Jimmy," Winona adds, bouncing the baby absently. She doesn’t look at him, Chris notes, but her grip tightens, almost like she thinks someone will take him from her.

 

"He’s cute," he offers. "Is he walking yet?"

 

"Why do you think I’m holding him? He’d tear through this place in a heartbeat." Winona smiles slightly. "He’s gonna be a terror. Just like his mom."

 

The Captain can’t  help the bolt of terror that jolts through him at her last remark. The kid looks harmless enough, though. And besides, he’s George’s son too. Jimmy should prove to be no trouble at all, Pike decides, smiling in what he hopes is a friendly manner at the giggling baby.

  
In retrospect, Chris realizes that, like everything else, Winona will prove herself right in the end.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Jimmy Kirk is Pike’s living nightmare.

 

But he’s not one of those easy nightmares, where you fall from a great height, the dream itself startling you awake.  No, James T. Kirk is a slow poison; he lures you in with his puppy dog eyes and gap-toothed grin— like one of those shitty, early twenty-first century vampires from Winona’s paper collection. He is an unstoppable force of nature, convincing his victim that this is the best dream they’ve ever had. The next thing anyone knows, they’re too far in its grasp to wake up.

 

Yes, Jimmy Kirk is Pike’s worst nightmare in adorable, deceptively harmless form.

 

The kid is fucking _four_.

 

"Are you sure you want to take him to the meeting with Ambassador Sarek?" he asks Winona as she double checks the baby bag Syruk had packed for her.

 

"He’s four, Chris. What’s he gonna do? Start an interplanetary incident?"

 

Pike could swear that an engineer mutters “ _Again,_ ” under his breath as he walks past.

 

“You see my point, though, right?” Chris exclaims.

 

The Vulcan crewmember is highly logical — he chooses to retreat rather than engage in further conversation.

 

"He’ll be fine," Winona continues as if no one else has spoken. "Vulcans are more forgiving of Human behaviors than the Andorians— and anyway, Ambassador Sarek has a little boy. Jimmy’ll have a kid to bother and’ll leave us to the conference."

 

Pike’s not so sure. That’s what they thought on Reagan III, and Guinada IX.

 

She’s right about the Vulcans, though— and Ambassador Sarek’s married to a human, anyway. The odds of a truly bad fuck up is unlikely. At least, stemming from Starfleet’s smallest passenger.

 

"If you’re _really_ sure," he says.

 

"I am."

  


*.*

  


Jimmy has never met a Vulcan kid, but he figures the rules are the same as grown up Vulcans. Spock is seven and tall for his age, dressed in the sort of robes Uncle Syruk wears when he doesn’t have to be in uniform. He has the ugliest haircut Jimmy’s ever seen— also like Uncle Syruk

 

His mother is Human. She offers him a smile and a warm greeting, and he shakes her hand, because those are Human rules. Then he turns to Spock, who is half-hiding behind his mother, and puts up his hand in a ta’al.

 

"Hi," he delivers the greeting with his best _getting-dessert-before-dinner_ smile.

 

Reflexively, Spock reciprocates.

 

"Dif-tor heh smusma."

 

"Spock hasn’t quite begun learning Standard yet," Lady Amanda says in Standard. "Vulcan curriculum requires full focus on Vulcan language and culture until the age of ten."

 

Jimmy blinks at her, thinks about it, then nods.

 

"Nash-veh stariben ein Vuhlkansu," he offers. "Sa-kuk Syruk nam-tor saven-tor nash-veh."

 

"Au nam-tor fam dvun uzh tor wuh Vuhlkansu gen-lis," Winona adds, squeezing her son’s shoulder. "But he’s trying."

 

Lady Amanda’s smile widens.

 

"You must be very smart, Mr. Kirk," she says.

 

Jimmy preens, and Winona rolls her eyes.

 

"Go play with Spock," she says, pushing him forward. "You need friends."

 

Jimmy looks up at her and smiles. His smile is too… everything. Too wide for his face, too sharp for his otherwise soft personage. Too human for the Vulcan playmate to be a genuinely well thought out suggestion. And yet.

 

He wanders over to Spock and tugging carefully at his sleeve.

 

"Gluvaya nash-veh uzh vel, Spock," he demands, looking up at the older boy.

 

Bewildered, Spock tries to tug his sleeve free. After a minute, he relents.

 

"Nash yut," he says, leading the squeaking blond to his rooms.

 

"Well," Winona remarks. "I think Jimmy likes him."

 

Lady Amanda chuckles, her voice fond. "Kids are great."

 

"Sure.” Winona agrees without hesitation.

 

She’s on duty, after all.

  


*.*

  


Jimmy doesn’t play like Vulcans do. His games are disorganized and often don’t have rules, but they require a working knowledge of things— any things.

 

Also, his Vulcan is awful.

 

"When I get biggest, I will be on a starship," Jimmy claims. "It’ll be the best starship in the whole Starfleet!"

 

He’s energetic, and silly, and completely illogical. Spock can’t wrap his head around it.

 

"You will fall if you do not get down from the bannister," he informs the boy placidly.

 

Jimmy blows a raspberry.

 

"I climbing all over the engine all the times," he says. "I won’t fall, see?"

 

He jumps, feet landing neatly on the bannister. Obviously, Spock needs to work on his control, because whatever Jimmy sees on his face is enough to make the boy grin and do it again.

 

This time, he doesn’t land so firmly. One foot slips off the narrow stone, and for a moment, everything goes impossibly slow and Spock can clearly see the mirth in Jimmy’s eyes turn to terror.

 

Spock’s hand shoots out to catch him. It settles on the boy’s forearm, just above his elbow. He feels Jimmy’s fear like ice under his skin, and with a hard pull, he jerks the boy off the bannister into his arms.

 

Jimmy clutches at his robes as they both topple backwards onto the sun-baked balcony. His breathing is quick and shallow, his heartbeat fluttering under his skin, too fast to be what Spock recognizes to be normal, even in a Human..

 

He’s scared. His face is wet where it’s pressed into Spock’s robes.

 

"Do not cry," Spock orders, flustered. "Do not— it is not Vulcan." Except it’s very, very Human.

 

Jimmy gasps wetly. His fingers tighten in the fabric of Spock’s robe. He can’t calm down— he’s Human, and even younger than Spock.

 

Carefully, the older boy sits up, arms instinctively wrapping around Jimmy’s small form to seat him more comfortably in his lap.

 

"You are frightened," he says. "I can calm you, if you let me."

 

Jimmy looks up, blue eyes wide and shiny with tears.

 

"Will you let me calm you?"

 

Jimmy nods, and one of Spock’s hands reaches for his face.

 

"My mind to your mind," he says softly, just like his father and Sybok have taught him to say. "My thoughts to your thoughts."

 

Jimmy’s mind is a tangle of pictures and ideas and memories and emotions. It is the hiss of machinery and the blur of stars at warp. It is as unorganized as his mother’s but quicker, if Spock can believe it, less flowing, more staccato, like Jim can’t help but think of everything, all at once. It’s like his limited Human brain refuses to let the whole melody of thoughts be played, instead sporadically jumping from one easily recognizable note to the next. The overall impression was that of a novice attempting to play a great symphony. Spock finds it fascinating, the jumbled clutter of a mind that has never known _still_.

 

Too long of a time passes before the Vulcan realizes what he’s doing— what he’s been told to never do. He pulls himself back, to the surface of flurried emotions. Spock smooths them out the same way he’s seen his mother brush out her hair before bed— with careful, even strokes of his gentlest memories.

 

He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but soon enough, Jimmy seems to quiet, relaxing in Spock’s grip until Spock can feel the beginnings of sleep tug at the younger boy’s bones. That’s when he sits up..

 

Jimmy sniffles quietly.

 

"Thanks, Spock," he murmurs, arms sliding up to hug the boy around his neck. "You are my favorite Vulcan."

 

Relieved that the blond was no longer crying, Spock hardly notices that his statement is spoken without a single mistake.

 

"Come along, James," he says, tapping the boy’s side gently. "Let us return to my bedroom. We can play a game."

 

Jimmy sniffles again and nods, getting to his feet and tugging his shirt into place.

 

Spock gets to his feet and straightens his own robes. Jimmy still looks a little uncertain, but his tears have stopped, leaving only red eyes and a runny nose.

 

Mouth pinching— he’s seen his mother cry, and his response has always been discomfort— he holds out his arm. Jimmy takes his sleeve, pauses, then wraps his fingers around Spock’s wrist instead.

 

Shock. Admiration. Confusion. Jimmy feels all these things, along with a need to keep close to the older boy. Spock stares at the hand clutching at his wrist, then decides he doesn’t mind. It makes sense for the Human to want to stay near him— he very nearly fell two stories onto the stone courtyard.

 

Jimmy remains quiet after that, carefully listening to Spock’s explanation of the rules of kal-toh before attempting to play.

 

 _He learns quickly_ , Spock thinks, surprised. A flush of pleasure overtakes his senses.

 

"Sa-kuk Syruk says I might be smart enough to go to the Vulcan Science Academy one day," Jimmy tells him with a smile. "He has started me on Vulcan curriculum."

 

"I was led to believe Humans had their own method of teaching their young," Spock remarks.

 

Jimmy rolls his eyes.

 

"Yes, but I have already completed my Human courses— even the advanced courses." He carefully tugs out a long metal rod and replaces it at a slightly different angle. "They are too easy, and I am bored."

 

Spock frowns.

 

"My Mother said that Humans begin their schooling at the age of five," he says after a moment. "But you are four."

 

"Mother thought I needed something to do, so she started me early," Jimmy explains with a shrug. "It keeps me from causing trouble, she says."

 

"Spock, where are— ah, here you are. And our guest, as well." An older Vulcan with too long hair and an expressive face appears in the doorway, robes rumpled and hands smeared with oil.

 

Spock winces.

 

"James, this is my half-brother Sybok," he informs the little boy.

 

Jimmy’s confusion is palpable as the Vulcan smiles down at him.

 

"It’s nice to meet you, Jimmy," he says in Standard. "Your mother’s been looking for you— it’s time to return to your ship."

 

Jimmy frowns, then shakes his head.

 

"I do not want to go," he answers in Vulcan, crossing his arms. "I want to stay with Spock."

 

"You have to go with your Mother," Spock says reasonably. "She will be disappointed if she has to leave you here."

 

"But I want to stay with you." Jimmy turns devastating blue eyes and a big-lipped pout on the boy.

 

Spock arches an eyebrow.

 

"You know you cannot," he says simply, and Jimmy huffs.

 

Spock relents. "You may visit again, if your Mother permits," he says. "I’m certain my Mother will not mind."

 

Jimmy brightens and reaches over their game to hug Spock tightly.

 

"You are my favorite Vulcan," he says again.

 

"I—" Spock stops, then tries again. "Thank you, James. Now, will you let Sybok take you to your Mother?"

 

"Only if you come too."

 

"Alright," he agrees. "Let go so I may stand."

 

Jimmy obeys reluctantly, unwinding his arms from around Spock and standing, frowning when he realizes he’s knocked over their game of kal-toh.

 

"We didn’t finish our game," he says.

 

Spock blinks, then gathers the game and puts it back in its box. He holds it out to Jimmy.

 

"You can play by yourself until you come to visit again," he says. "Then we shall finish our game."

 

Jimmy’s eyes are wide when he takes the box.

 

"Really?"

 

Spock nods, “Why else would I offer?” He ignores the pensive frown from James as he he gets to his feet..

 

"We are ready to leave," he informs his brother as Jimmy reaches out for his wrist. Spock flinches inwardly, and Jimmy thinks better of it, grabbing instead at his sleeve again.

 

Sybok stares, then huffs a laugh.

 

 _Strange Vulcan_ is the thought that comes unbidden to Spock’s mind. He doesn’t know where it comes from.

 

"Come," he says. "They’re in the atrium."

  


*.*

  


Spock gets three more hugs from the little Human before he skips over to his amused mother, kal-toh box clutched to his chest like something of great value.

 

"It looks like you made a friend, Spock," Amanda says as they make their way back to the main house.

 

Spock doesn’t answer, but he feels warm, like there’s a sun bursting under his skin.

 

He’s never had a friend before.

  


*.*

  


"Spock gave you a present," Winona notes as she walks her son back to their quarters.

 

Jimmy nods his head, smiling brightly.

 

"I’m gonna marry him one day, Mommy," he tells her. "I’ve decided."

 

She snorts.

 

"And why’s that?"

 

"Well, he’s really nice," Jimmy says. "And he taught me how to play kal-toh. And he’s got a weird big brother, and so do I, so I think I’m gonna marry him."

 

"What if he doesn’t want to marry you back?"

 

Jimmy pauses, chewing his lip thoughtfully. Then he shrugs, as speaks as though his conclusion should have been obvious from the start.

 

"I’ll convince him."

  


*.*

  


Three months later, Spock is standing in formal robes beside the girl he’s going to be bonded to for the rest of his life.

 

Her eyes are cold and remind him of the desert sands. He does not know why, but as the Elder begins the bonding ceremony, he thinks of stars.

 

The bond doesn’t take.

  


*.*

  


"What do you _mean_ , he is already bonded?"

 

Amanda is worried. It grates across Sarek’s link, amplifying his own uncertainty, however irrational it is.

 

"That is what Elder K’ton has told me. It sometimes happens," he says. "Two children simply… are compatible. Can you think of anyone he favors? Any peers he prefers?"

 

Amanda shakes her head helplessly.

 

"You know how his classmates are, Sarek," she says. "He prefers none of them. He stands alone."

 

Sarek knows this— of course he does. Still, it’s obvious _someone_ has bonded with son. It’s just a matter of who.

 

"Do not trouble yourself, wife," he says soothingly. "Perhaps he himself is not yet aware of who he has chosen. They will reveal themselves in time."

 

"But what if—"

 

"If you worry for the pon farr, you ought not to," Sarek interrupts. "They will be drawn to each other before it is too late, I assure you."

 

"I cannot help it, Sarek. I am his mother. I worry."

 

"You would not be a mother otherwise. But rest assured— our son is well."

  


*.*

  


"Mother is frightened that I did not bond with T’Pring."

 

Sybok hums.

 

"Frightened is the wrong word," he says. "Imprecise. Worried is more accurate. She was ill prepared for such a surprise, and was startled into an over display of emotionalism."

 

Spock can’t quite keep his face as blank as he’d like. His eyes are downcast, his mouth pulled into a slight frown— guilt.

 

"If I knew who it was, I would tell her," he tells Sybok earnestly. "I do not wish her to worry."

 

Sybok ruffles his hair.

 

"You’re too sweet for your own good," he says in Standard.

 

"I am not sweet," Spock answers shortly in the same language. "I am not edible."

 

Sybok blinks.

 

"You don’t speak Standard," he says.

 

Spock blinks.

 

"James taught me some," he says, returning to Vulcan, though he can’t recall ever learning these particular phrases, their acquisition has only one logical source.

 

"Oh." Sybok leans back in his seat. "Do not worry. This will pass, and your bondmate will come for you."

 

"I know. But Mother is unhappy."

 

"For now." Sybok fiddles with the sleeve of his robe absently. "You know, one of the topics I’ve considered for my dissertation is the nature of a bondmate. Perhaps I should consider it again. Your situation is quite rare— a subject worthy of study."

 

"I refuse to be the subject of your dissertation," Spock says flatly. "I wish you to stop speaking now."

 

Sybok grins and complies. His brother is easy to annoy.

  


*.*

  


“I made a friend on Vulcan,” Jimmy says when he shows Syruk Spock’s gift.

 

Syruk blinks.

 

“You have?”

 

Jimmy nods.

 

“I will marry him when I am older,” he explains. “I have already informed Mother.”

 

Syruk’s mouth pinches at the corners— a suppression of amusement.

 

“Your Vulcan is much better,” he remarks. “Did your friend teach you?”

 

“He did not speak Standard,” Jimmy says. He holds up the box. “Will you play with me?”

 

Syruk considers this. Kal-toh is a marriage of patience and logic— two things this little boy must learn.

 

“I will play,” he decides. “But you may not cry if you lose.”

  
“I will not, Sa-kuk Syruk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulcan Translations:
> 
> Nash-veh stariben ein Vuhlkansu: I speak some Vulcan  
> Sa-kuk Syruk nam-tor saven-tor Nash-veh: Uncle Syruk is taught me  
> Au nam-tor fam dvun uzh tor wuh Vuhlkansu gen-lis: He is still new to the Vulcan language  
> Gluvaya nash-veh uzh vel, Spock: Show me new things, Spock  
> Nash yut: This way


	3. Chapter 3

Pike looks over the blackened walls of the bedroom, then over to the soot-covered boy who claims he definitely  _ wasn’t _ trying to build a bomb, then back to the bedroom.

 

"Jimmy, I have half a mind to kick you off my ship," he says.

 

"I didn’t mean to, Captain, _ honest _ ." And there it is, that sickly sweet voice and  _ I-could-never _ eyes that suck away anger faster than an airlock, leaving only frustration and— though Pike would never admit it— just a little bit of awe. This kid was going to be the death of him.

 

"How the hell’d you get your hands on a crystal, anyway?"

 

Jimmy scuffs his shoe against the floor. The sole begins to crumble off.

 

"I took one of the used up ones," he says. "They were going to throw it out, anyway."

 

Maybe one day, the universe will be kind, and Winona will actually be the one stuck parenting her damn hellspawn. "That doesn’t mean you can just take it, Jimmy."

 

"I just needed a little piece— it’s not  _ my  _ fault I couldn’t break it up enough!"

 

Pike closes his eyes and counts backward from ten. Jimmy is a little shit, and thanks to the damned Vulcans in engineering, he’s too smart for his own good.

 

"I can’t have you on my ship right now," he says, shaking his head. "You’re going with Syruk to resupply."

 

Jimmy pouts.

 

"I hate resupply."

 

"Perfect. I hate bratty kids blowing up parts of my ship and endangering my crew."

 

"It was only a little explosion," Jimmy mutters sullenly.

 

"And it’s only a little trip!" Pike says sharply. "Don’t cause any trouble for Syruk or your Mom, or I may just be of a mind not to beam you back."

 

"Where are we even stopping?"

 

"Vulcan."

 

Jimmy sighs but doesn’t argue.

 

Pike should have taken that as a sign. Kirks always argue.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Jimmy’s very smart. He’s got a gift for engineering— he’s less than a year away from finishing up the Starfleet material, thanks to the combined effort of the engineering crew. So hacking the transporter is a piece of cake.

 

(That’s a lie. It takes him most of the night, actually, but he’s always preferred to play in the warp core over programming.)

 

Regardless, he gets it done, so when he steps onto the transporter pad along with Uncle Syruk and Winona, he can’t stop smiling.

 

Syruk looks suspicious. Winona probably is, too, but she doesn’t show it. One thing Jimmy’s always appreciated about his Mom is that she’s always been more willing to let him get into trouble.  The Captain has even suggested on occasion that she encourages it.

 

She calls them life lessons.

 

The transporter energizes. The Enterprise fades from view, only to be replaced moments later by the orange landscape of Vulcan.

 

Jimmy takes in the view for a moment, insufferably pleased with himself, then turns around.

 

A large, borderline ornate house with high windows and beautiful rock gardens stands stark against the landscape. It’s exactly as Jimmy remembers, right down to the uneven crack to the right of the intricate metal gate.

 

He doesn’t know how he remembers that, exactly. He was four the last time he was here, and not the most observant of children— at least, not this way.

 

He has to restrain himself from whooping with joy— not only did he manage to hack the transporter, he actually ended up  _ exactly  _ where he wanted to be. That almost  _ never _ happens.

 

Yes, Jim can consider this a resounding success.

 

"May I help you?"

 

Jimmy knows that voice, but its suddenness makes him start. He whirls, eyes wide, and finds a gangly, thin-lipped Vulcan boy standing before him.

 

He grins.

 

"Spock!"

 

Spock blinks.

 

"You are… familiar," he remarks. "Who are you?"

 

"Don’t you remember me?" Jimmy pouts.

 

Spock studies him for a moment. Jimmy feels his heart clench uncertainly. What if Spock doesn’t know who he is?

 

He’ll look like an idiot, that’s what.

 

"You are James," Spock says at last. Warmth floods through Jimmy’s blood. "How did you get to Vulcan?"

 

"My Mom’s resupplying— my project blew up, so Captain Pike made me tag along for the boring parts." Jimmy grins. "I figured I’d stop by and say hi. Your Standard’s really good."

 

Spock doesn’t sniff— not physically, anyway. Jimmy gets the feeling that he would, though, if he were Human.

 

"I am the top of my class," he says. "Your Mother is not aware of your presence here."

 

"She had a feeling I was going to do something— not that I did anything  _ wrong _ , of course." Jimmy flushes. "She’ll find me... Eventually."

 

Spock sighs.

 

"I thought we had agreed upon your departure that you would return only if your Mother gave you permission," he says.

 

"Hey, she knew something was going on and said nothing— silence means yes!"

 

"I do not believe you are correct." Spock gazes at him a moment, then nods to himself. He has accepted his fate for the foreseeable future. "Since you are so certain your Mother will learn of your whereabouts, come; you did not get to meet I’Chaya during your last visit."

 

"Who’s that?"

 

"My Seh’lat."

 

Jimmy doesn’t know what a Seh’lat is, but he has an impression it will be furry.

 

His triumph breaks his will— he’s always had poor impulse control— and in two steps, he’s got his arms wrapped around the older boy’s waist.

 

"It’s nice to see my favorite Vulcan again," he says into Spock’s shoulder.

 

"One would think you would have outgrown such a way of thinking," Spock says placidly, neither returning the hug nor rebuffing him. "I cannot possibly be your favorite; you do not know enough Vulcans to make such an absolute statement."

 

"Well, you’re my favorite out of the ones I know," Jimmy says, pulling back with a grin. "Even more than Sa-kuk Syruk."

 

Spock wants to roll his eyes, Jimmy can tell. But he doesn’t.

 

"Follow me," he says. "I’Chaya is likely in the garden at this time of day."

 

Jimmy lets Spock pass him, reaching out to catch Spock’s sleeve.

 

"You are too old to be led in such a way."

 

"I like it, though."

 

Spock doesn’t argue, but it’s obvious he’s confused.

 

“As you wish,” he says simply.

 

Jim chuckles.

 

“What is the source of your current amusement?”

 

“Well, Spock, that’s a complicated question,” Jim says. Suddenly his aura changes, a gleam coming into the boy’s eyes that Spock would have described as dangerous had he not known the relative frailty of Human children. Jimmy’s mouth curls into a wide, toothy grin. “Do you like movies?”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Amanda comes home from the market to find her son… not in his room.

 

It’s strange. Spock has dedicated the hours between the end of school and dinner to study, and has yet to break this routine, to her knowledge.

 

It’s only natural she’s curious.

 

Spock is a creature of habit. A cursory check of his preferred hiding spots— not _ hiding  _ spots, she corrects herself. Spock doesn’t hide, he’s informed her many times— finds him in the garden, conversing quietly with a strange, blond boy that is obviously not Vulcan.

 

He’s sitting on top of I’Chaya’s wide back, gestures large and exaggerated as he speaks.

 

“And so, he gets stabbed, right? But it doesn’t stop him. He just keeps trying to fight the six-fingered man, all ‘ _ My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die _ .’ He says it over and over, manic—”

 

“Why does Inigo feel the need to repeat himself so?” Spock inquires, head tilted to one side in curiosity.

 

“Because Inigo has  _ purpose _ , Spock—” The human’s voice has a note of condescension, as though Spock should have come to this conclusion on his own. “he’s been trying to find the guy who killed his father for twenty years.”

 

“I still do not understand his reasoning in his search for the six-fingered man.”

 

“Revenge, Spock. An eye for an eye!” The blond punctuates his last statement with a valiant thrust of his pantomimed sword. “You killed my father, I kill you. It makes _ perfect  _ sense.”

 

“Not to a Vulcan.”

 

The blond rolls his eyes.

 

“Sure it makes sense to a Vulcan,” he says. “You just haven’t had anything happen to you yet that makes revenge a good idea.”

 

Amanda’s heard enough. Whoever this boy is, Spock appears to enjoy his company. She steps out of the doorway, where the boys will be able to see her.

 

“Spock, there you are,” she says in Vulcan— the children had been speaking Standard the entire time she’d been listening. “Who is your friend?”

 

Spock doesn’t look surprised by her sudden appearance.

 

“Mother,” he greets, turning. “This is James Tiberius Kirk.”

 

Amanda blinks.

 

_ “Jimmy?” _

 

“Hi, Lady Amanda!” Jimmy greets brightly, waving, his anecdote forgotten. “We were on Vulcan and I wanted to see Spock.”

 

“His mother is not aware of his presence here,” Spock informs her. “Though he is certain she will discover him soon.”

 

Sheepish, Jimmy shrugs when Amanda pins him with a Look.

 

“She knew I was up to something,” he explains. “And it’s not like I have a lot of places to go. I only know Spock.”

 

Which is probably true— but still.

 

“I will call your mother,” Amanda says. “And you will help Spock prepare for dinner.”

 

“Can I stay?” Jimmy asks hopefully, and... he’s adorable, wide-eyed and soft and someone that Amanda can’t say no to, even if his mother is probably worried sick by now.

 

“If your Mother allows it, you may stay for dinner.”

 

Jimmy whoops and I’Chaya starts, causing the boy to lose balance. He pitches forward awkwardly, arms pinwheeling in attempt to right himself.

 

Spock catches him easily, setting the boy gently on his feet as I’Chaya shifts irritatedly away from them.

 

“I am sorry,” Jimmy says, heartbroken as he stares at I’Chaya.

 

“I’Chaya is old enough that he may have a fraying temper,” Spock soothes. “It is not your fault.”

 

Amanda smiles. She’s never seen Spock attempt to soothe anyone before— besides herself, at least. It’s a refreshing sight, a remnant of the little boy that is so quickly turning into the epitome of a Vulcan before her eyes.

 

“Come along, boys,” she says before Spock can notice her watching. “Your Father will be home soon, Spock, and I believe he will be hungry.”

 

Spock nods and starts toward the kitchen. Jimmy bounds after him, energetic and irreverent and oh so Human.

 

Her son doesn’t seem to mind, though, even when Jimmy reaches out to hold onto his robes. He merely tilts his head to the nearly forty degree downward angle necessary to maintain eye contact with his young companion. Jim smirks and mumbles something under his breath. Amanda fails to catch the remark itself, but the slight twitch in the corner of her son’s mouth implies that Jimmy’s lesson on Inigo Montoya may not be concluded after all.. 

 

It’s all so cute she can’t help but snap a picture.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Winona is watching Syruk debate over platinum prices when her Comm buzzes. Absently, she reads the ID— nobody she knows, just a number. But there’s a image file attached. 

 

A Vulcan boy with overtly expressive eyes stares in shock down at a little blond—  _ her _ little blond—who’s grinning back as if he’s just won the ship-wide sharp-shooting competition. The Vulcan’s face is spattered with something sticky— perhaps some sort of jam.

 

Snorting, she reads the caption.

 

_ Jimmy said you probably know where he is. He’s welcome to stay for dinner should your business keep yo _ u _. -Lady Amanda _

 

Winona stares at the message. She suspected, of course, but Jimmy is unpredictable at the best of times so to be proven right is… interesting.

 

Technically, she isn’t busy. Syruk is handling most of the real work here, if she’s honest, but…

 

_ Thanks for telling me. I figured he might run off. He seemed smug about something when we beamed out. I probably won’t be free until later to pick him up. _

 

She taps out the message and presses send.

 

Seconds later she has her reply.

 

_ No problem. They seem to be enjoying each other’s company well enough. _

 

There’s another photograph attached, this one of Jim covered in the same jam. Another message follows.

 

_ Jim was teaching Spock about revenge earlier. It seems my son learned his lesson well. _

 

Winona snorts.

 

Serves him right.

  
  


*.*

  
  


The boys are clean by the time Sarek comes home, and by some miracle dinner’s ready, too.

 

Apparently, Jimmy is a chatterbox. He regales Spock and company with tales of engineering mishaps and near-misses on the outskirts of the neutral zone. Despite switching solely to Vulcan once Sarek arrives, his excitement still permeates every word.

 

Not even Amanda can infuse the language with such… feeling.

 

“Sa-kuk Syruk does not let me near the replicator programs anymore.” Jim makes a face. “Even though the experiment  _ was _ a success, technically.”

 

“I am not sure an explosion ought to be considered a success,” Spock points out, primly cutting a bite-sized piece of something that could be lasagna if not for the green and blue coloring (Jim wasn’t exactly paying attention to the ingredients).

 

Jim scoffs.

 

“Sure it does,” he says. “The explosion proved there was an issue in the programming— my hypothesis proved correct.”

 

Jimmy… has an interesting way of looking at things, Sarek thinks. Illogical, but correct often enough to be troubling.

 

“If I recall,” Sarek begins when it appears the boy has taken a breath. “That the last time you visited, you had started on certain Vulcan courses. If I may ask, have you continued them?”

 

Jimmy shrugs.

 

“After a fashion. I have completed most culture and language courses, though without proper training, I cannot begin on calligraphy.” He pauses thoughtfully. “The science courses are difficult— it is an interesting development. I have never had much trouble with my Human studies in that regard.”

 

“What grade level have you reached?” Amanda inquires.

 

Jimmy makes a face.

 

“Only year two,” he says. “Sa-kuk Syruk says I am doing well considering my Human background, but that still puts me two years behind my age group.”

 

Sarek arches an eyebrow.

 

“Syruk speaks correctly,” he says. “It is rare for a Human to be able to match a Vulcan’s pace in their studies— that you have done so much considering it is only a secondary subject for you is… intriguing.”

 

“I would still prefer to do better,” Jimmy says, but he concedes the point. “At the very least, the struggle I have with my Vulcan curriculum has kept me out of trouble— or at least makes trouble less frequent.”

 

Yes, Sarek can see very clearly that Jimmy is the sort of Human that attracts trouble— if he does not outright affect it. He is perhaps not the healthiest friend his son could make, but Sarek can’t help but be relieved that Spock has made a friend at all.

 

Amanda thinks they’re adorable, whatever that means. He doesn’t quite understand her likening the blond to a Terran canine.

 

_ A labrador puppy _ , she supplies helpfully over the link.

 

That does not explain much.

 

Still, Spock is pleased the boy is here. He can feel the faint pulse of it through their parental bond. In fact, if Spock were not Vulcan, Sarek might even say he was… happy.

 

Neither boy is speaking now, hunger overcoming Jimmy’s need to speak and etiquette overcoming Spock’s. Something is strange, however. Their movements mirror each other, not perfectly enough to be odd, but not quite random enough to be an accident.

 

Sarek has seen this before, in Sybok. He and a peer by the name of Storek often exhibited similar patterns.

 

_ Telsu _ , he realizes.  _ Fascinating. _

 

It is a phenomenon Sarek has seen on occasion— a brother bond, built upon a mixture of mental compatibility, understanding, and near-familial levels of trust in another. How his son has managed to create such a bond with this boy— a Human, no less— in such a short time is staggering. It is a testament to Spock’s telepathic strength.

 

Though perhaps not his discipline.

 

Still, it is satisfying to see such a bond developing with his otherwise isolated progeny, and when they both look up in unison to ask if they may be excused (Spock voices the query. Jimmy just peers hopefully at Sarek and Amanda, leading to the sudden, vivid understanding of Amanda’s earlier metaphor), Sarek lets them go.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Winona decides to pick up her son right around the time Pike calls to ask if he’s caused any trouble.

 

“I wouldn’t know,” she tells him. “He went to go visit Ambassador Sarek’s kid.”

 

Pike’s frustrated sigh— his discipline never works— is enough to sustain a good mood long enough to offer a genial smile when Lady Amanda opens the door.

 

“Lieutenant Commander Kirk,” she greets, stepping aside to let her in. “I trust your day has gone well.”

 

“As well as can be expected, Lady Amanda,” Winona answers easily. “How was Jimmy? He didn’t cause too much trouble, I hope.”

 

“Oh, he was no bother,” Lady Amanda smiles. “Come on, they’re in Spock’s room— they decided to practice their calligraphy.”

 

Winona snorts.

 

“Jimmy’s been begging Syruk to teach him,” she says. “There hasn’t been any time.”

 

“Well, it’s nice that he wants to learn— gives him something to do, right?” she gestures down the hall. “This way.”

 

Winona follows her quietly through the house, It’s beautiful, in a spotless, sterile kind of way. Far too streamlined for her tastes. She can’t help but wonder how Amanda manages to live her entire life without collecting human clutter. It would drive her insane to even attempt this level of clean for a week.

 

The door of Spock’s room is slightly ajar. Lady Amanda peers inside, then pushes it open completely.

 

The boys are asleep on the floor, surrounded by sheets of half-filled paper. Spock is still sitting up, head lolling back over the edge of his bed and one arm resting along the line of Jimmy’s side. Jimmy is sprawled across him, his head pillowed in his lap.

 

“Oh, I need a holo,” Lady Amanda whispers, pulling out her personal communicator.

 

“Send me a copy,” Winona stage-whispers back. It’s rare she can catch Jimmy sleeping like this— at least, not unless it’s on a biobed in Medbay.

 

She’d almost forgotten how cute her son is when he’s not being a shithead.

 

Sighing to herself, she tiptoes over the mess of— wow, that is calligraphy— and kneels beside her son. He doesn’t wake, but he does shift closer to his Vulcan pillow, burying his face in a skinny thigh.

 

Carefully, she pulls them apart, cautious of Spock’s hands, and settles her son on her hip.

 

Jimmy stirs.

 

“Mommy?” he mumbles, cheek nuzzling against her shoulder.

 

“Time to go home, Jimmy. It’s late.”

 

He grunts.

 

“I don’t wanna go,” he says into her shirt. “I wanna stay with Spock.”

 

“Jimmy, Spock has to go to school tomorrow.” And here she was, thinking that raising her kids on a Starship would have spared her from the  _ no sleepovers on school nights _ lecture. The near normality of the situation settles like a brick in her chest. In a different universe, this could have been a regular occurrence. If only George—

 

Nope. She’s not thinking about that. Not now.

 

“So? I wanna stay here.” He stretches, mouth pulled into a tired grimace. “Spock’s my favorite.”

 

Winona wants to laugh. Jimmy doesn’t even have his eyes open, for Christ’s sake, but he’s still managing to complain. Thank God for his bitchy streak, it never fails to cheer her up.

 

She shushes him.

 

“You can visit again if you want, Jimmy,” she says quietly. “Next time you’re on Vulcan.”

 

“Spock would like that,” Lady Amanda adds. “We can set it all up.”

 

Jimmy seems to think about this.

 

“But I wanna stay.”

 

Winona lets herself laugh this time, carrying him out into the hall.

 

“We’ll come back,” she promises, because of course they will. It’s Vulcan. “You’ll see.”

 

Jimmy grumbles, but sleep overtakes him before he can really argue.

 

“Sorry about that,” she says to Lady Amanda as she’s led back to the main room. “He has a bit of a crush.”

 

“That’s adorable,” Lady Amanda coos. “Sarek, there you are.”

 

“Lieutenant Commander,” he greets. “I see James has found himself in need of rest.”

 

“That’s one way to put it.”

 

He nods, then glances at Amanda.

 

“I am unfamiliar with the word ‘crush’ in this context,” he admits after a moment. “I assume it is Terran slang?”

 

“It is… an affectionate attachment,” Amanda explains. “Young Human children often develop them.”

 

“In what way is this attachment considered affectionate?” He sounds intrigued.

 

“It depends on the child’s point of development— a practice run at romantic interest.” Amanda smiles. “They usually pass quite quickly.”

 

“It probably doesn’t happen much on Vulcan,” Winona remarks. “Considering Vulcans are bonded so young.”

 

Sarek nods thoughtfully.

 

“I believe you are correct, Lieutenant Commander,” he agrees. “Until we meet again.”

 

“Please, send Jimmy over next time you’re on Vulcan— he’s such a sweet little thing.”

 

“If you say so,” Winona says. “Thanks for watching him.”

 

She waits until she’s outside to beam up, arms full of sleeping child. When she steps off the transporter pad, Pike’s already waiting.

 

“So he hacked the transporter’s coordinates,” he says.

 

“Yep.”

 

“Did he blow anything up?”

 

“Nope!”

 

Chris sighs.

 

“Well, I’ll count it as a win, then.” He reaches out to ruffle Jim’s hair. “You guys have a good night.”

 

“You too, Chris. Say hello to Number One for me.”

 

“We’re not sleeping together.”

 

“Not yet.” Winona grins. “Night, Chris.”

 

“Yeah.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Jimmy wakes up unhappy the next morning. He fell asleep in Spock’s room last night, he remembers that clearly, so why is it that he wakes up in his room on the  _ Farragut _ ?

 

He grumbles all through his morning routine, staring moodily into his omelette.

 

Sam leaves him alone— he never bothers with Jimmy’s mood swings anymore. It’s not worth the effort. Or the bloody nose.

 

Winona, on the other hand, gets annoyed about twenty minutes after she realizes he’s having one.

 

“Heads up, pipsqueak.”

 

Jimmy only just barely manages to catch her comm, thrown too hard from across the room. Frowning, he turns on the screen and reads ‘One New Message’.

 

Curious, he prys it open.

 

_ Lieutenant Commander Kirk, should your son James wish to contact me, this is the number of my personal communicator. -Spock _

  
Jimmy looks up to where his mother has disappeared. He smiles.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there's no underage sex. Just gratuitous Vulcan hand kisses.

Shore leave is the most exciting thing Jimmy gets to take part in on a starship at eleven years old, particularly since he never gets to beam down onto the  _ fun  _ planets, the ones that have undiscovered species and plants that spit aphrodisiacs when you touch them.

 

(Jimmy’s read the files. There are a lot of planets that have both of those things, which is hilarious.)

 

He’s really into sciences right now. He’s been jumping from subject to subject since he finished the Engineering track three years ago, because science is mostly easy and because he wants to. The thing that sucks about being into science and being a permanent passenger on a starship is this:  technically, he’s not allowed to join an away team and find something new to study for himself. The entire science department has basically just been tossing him their scraps and considering him occupied. As if.

 

(Not that this has actually stopped him from beaming down to a planet or two— he’s got a species of fish and a disease named after him that speak to the contrary.)

 

The point is, for the most part, Jimmy has to suffice with secondhand data. Stuff that other people have already documented and quantified. That may work for some people, but it doesn’t work for him. It’s  _ boring _ .

 

So, shore leave is awesome, because he gets to beam down to a planet and do some exploring of his own.

 

Another cool thing about shore leave? Captain Pike has a knack for picking friendly, comfortable planets, and he’s always willing to take suggestions.

 

See, Jimmy has been thinking: he really wants to see Spock. He hasn’t seen his best friend (his only friend) in four years. That’s a long time to have a friendship live off of comm messages and the occasional VidCall.

 

So, the next time he sees Captain Pike outside of a potentially deadly situation (there are a surprising amount of deadly situation aboard the  _ Farragut _ — at least where Jimmy is involved), he brings it up.

 

“Captain Pike, I think our next shore leave should be on Vulcan.”

 

Pike looks up from his dinner, narrows his eyes, and sets down his fork.

 

“Oh?”

 

Jimmy nods.

 

“Yeah. I think Vulcan would be good.”

 

The Captain’s pretty awesome. Jimmy really shouldn’t be putting his two cents in— it’s not like he’s a member of the crew, after all— but one look at the kid’s unusually serious face and he’s all ears.

 

“Why do you think we should take shore leave on Vulcan, Jimmy?”

 

Jimmy sits down opposite him, propping his elbows on the table.

 

“Well, we haven’t been there for a long time.”

 

“We haven’t had shore leave on Earth since you came aboard,” Pike points out. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to take shore leave there?”

 

“Well, I guess— except, thanks to Mommy’s… well, you know,  _ her _ , almost the entire engineering crew is Vulcan—” except for a surly-faced Andorian who’s a whiz with computers but otherwise keeps to himself. “— And that’s like, thirty-five percent of the entire essential crew, plus the Vulcans in the other departments. Captain Pike, almost half of your entire crew consists of Vulcans.”

 

Pike takes this in, double-checking Jimmy’s math against the roster that he’s pretty much memorized over the last decade.

 

“That’s a point,” he agrees. “Any other reason?”

 

Jimmy eyes him for a moment, then sighs.

 

“I miss Spock,” he admits earnestly. “I haven’t seen my best friend in person in forever.”

 

And— oh, Jimmy can see Pike’s heart melt a little bit. Sometimes people forget he’s the only kid on board. He tries not to remind them too much, either. A weapon used too frequently loses it’s luster.

 

“I’ll think about it, Kirk,” the Captain says, smiling in that fatherly way that means Jimmy’s going to get what he wants.

 

“Thanks, Captain Pike!” Jimmy hops up from his seat and bounces off to his next target, leaving Pike to his dinner.

 

It’s rare that Pike thinks of Jimmy in terms of  a child, but right then, when he watches Jimmy reach up to swing from Syruk’s arm, he can almost pretend he isn’t the hellspawn Chris knows he is. He gives it twelve hours until he’s reminded. Eighteen at the most.

  
  


*.*

  
  


They’re orbiting Vulcan; Jimmy’s practically vibrating in his boots.

 

Winona doesn’t think she’s ever seen him this excited.

 

“Two whole weeks,” Jimmy says for the fourth time as he packs. “I’m going to be on Vulcan for _two_ _whole weeks_ with Spock!”

 

“Yeah, you are,” she agrees. “So you’re gonna be on your best behavior for Ambassador Sarek and Lady Amanda, right?”

 

She feels more than sees his eyeroll.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He brightens. “Hey, do you think Spock would mind if I brought a few movies with me?”

 

“I don’t know— has he watched any of the other stuff you’ve sent him?”

 

“Well, yeah— but I tell him it’s for cultural exchange.” Jimmy runs a hand through his hair, turning worried blue eyes on his mother. “Do you think he’d just watch a movie? Just to enjoy it?”

 

Winona’s favorite thing about her son’s friend is the fact that Jimmy’s crush never faded.

 

“Vulcans don’t enjoy things— you know that, Jimmy.” He opens his mouth to argue, but she stops him. “That being said, I know for a fact that you and Syruk like to quote Star Wars at each other when we hit warp eight, so it really depends on him.”

 

Jimmy sighs.

 

“I don’t want to make him watch them if he doesn’t want to.”

 

“Bring ‘em along— if you get to them, you get to them. Hopefully you guys’ll have other things to occupy your time besides sitting inside and watching  _ By the Waterfront _ for the fiftieth time.”

 

“Hey, it’s a classic!” Jimmy goes back to his packing. “But yeah, I guess. Spock promised to take me hiking around the base of Mount Seleya, and then we’re supposed to go into the city for a few days while Ambassador Sarek is at a conference—”

 

He keeps talking, and it’s cute, really, the way he just can’t seem to shut up. It reminds Winona of George when they were kids, before he realized that he’d essentially resigned himself to her mercy. Sometimes, Jimmy is so much like his father it hurts.

 

“We’ve got two hours ‘til beam down,” she tells him, interrupting his increasingly unintelligible ramble. “Have your shit together by then, okay? And don’t forget to pack your toothbrush.”

 

“Right— thanks, Mommy.” He scurries off to the bathroom, and Winona slips out before he can come back to babble at her some more.

 

She’ll send Syruk after him before he’s too late for the transporter.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Spock is seated on the steps of his home, dressed in light blue robes that bear a remarkable resemblance to Jimmy’s eyes. His skin itches— a result of his excitement, according to his mother when he informed her of this.

 

He’s not so sure it isn’t a medical problem, but she seems certain of this, so he lets it go.

 

The glimmer of a transporter beam catches his eye. Spock straightens instinctively, focused completely on the person forming at the bottom of the steps.

 

A moment passes, and bright blue eyes— unlike any Spock has seen on Vulcan— peer up at him, overfull with an emotion that Spock can’t name.

 

He stands.

 

“Hello, James,” he greets stiffly. “You look—”

 

His greeting— perhaps too formal, considering the guest— is cut short as he is knocked backwards by a streak of blond hair and pink skin. Jimmy’s arms have snaked around his middle and are squeezing with a strength Spock was not aware a Human could have.

 

“Spock,” Jimmy says happily, face buried in Spock’s shoulder. “I missed you.”

 

Logically, that shouldn’t be possible. The time Jimmy has spent in Spock’s company is minimal, less than two days altogether. They haven’t spent enough time together for Jimmy to be able to say he’s missed him. Despite this, Spock thinks of every comm, every video, every exchange they’ve had over the last four years, and something he cannot identify makes him return the hug.

 

“I have missed you as well, James,” he admits quietly. “You have grown.”

 

“Not as much as you.” Jimmy pulls back, hands sliding until they rest on Spock’s elbows. “You still have a _ foot  _ on me.”

 

“Vulcan males are statistically taller than Humans,” Spock says, because even if Jimmy’s phrasing leaves something to be desired, he always seems to understand what the Human means to express. “This is not unsurprising.”

 

“Yeah, yeah— I’ll catch up to you eventually.”  _ Hopefully _ . “Help me carry my bags?”

 

Spock looks past him. Apparently, Jimmy felt the need to bring a suitcase as tall as he is.

 

“I am amenable to assist you, not to do the task in it’s entirety,” he says. “Mother has tea waiting for us.”

 

Jimmy grins.

 

“As long as it isn’t that dust-flavored stuff.”

 

Spock quirks an eyebrow, “Due to the physiological differences in our palettes, I am not confident in my ability to infer precisely which beverage you are referring to.”

 

James barks a laugh, grabbing onto one strap of his luggage, waiting for the Vulcan to grasp the other. “Never mind, Spock. I brought enough hypos to eat whatever your mom makes me.”

 

“Hypos? For what purpose-”

 

“No reason. Hey, can we visit I’Chaya?”

 

Spock blinks.

 

“I’Chaya is dead, James.”

 

“Yeah, but you buried him, right?”

 

Spock inclines his head. “Yes—”

 

“Does he have a gravestone?”

 

“There is a marker approximate to where he he was buried, yes.”

 

“Then I want to visit it. Him.” Jimmy blinks at Spock’s confusion prickling across his skin. “It’s a Human custom— I’ve never done it before, but supposedly we visit the graves of our loved ones. I’d like to try it.”

 

Spock stares a moment longer, then nods.

 

“If you like,” he says. “But it will have to be later in the day. The sun is too strong for any length of time to be spent in the open, even for a Vulcan.”

 

“You’re telling me. My skin’s going to start sliding off soon if we don’t go inside.”

 

The visual that comes to Spock’s mind is neither pleasant nor typical of human anatomy.

 

“I do not believe that is possible, James.”

 

“Captain Pike would tell you that when it comes to me, _ anything _ is possible.” Jimmy shoots him a mischievous grin, pushing himself to his feet. “Let’s go say hi to your Mom so she knows you didn’t get stood up.”

 

Spock is uncertain of the phrase, though he has the distinct feeling he has heard it on multiple occasions during a period of time in which Jimmy was obsessed with the genre in classic film known as  _ Rom-Coms _ .

 

Jimmy slaps him on the back.

 

“Don’t worry about it, Spock,” he says. “I’ll explain it to you later— I even brought examples.”

 

“You brought more Terran classic films?”

 

“Yep— but you don’t have to watch them, if you don’t want to.” Jimmy’s uncertainty is uncomfortable. “I mean, I don’t know what you have planned—”

 

“James, it is alright.” Spock pauses. “Though, I believe you may need to explain to me the context of  _ V for Vendetta _ — I have my own theories, but I am not as well-versed in twentieth-century history as one ought to be to understand the importance of the film.”

 

Delight and wonder make Jimmy’s eyes go wide.

 

“We are going to have a great time,” he decides. “Not that I didn’t think we were going to before, but Spock—  _ we’re going to have a great time _ .”

 

Spock does not feel appropriately prepared.

  
  


*.*

  
  


“Mother, we shall be visiting I’Chaya this evening,” Spock informs Lady Amanda after tea.

 

“Oh?”

 

“James wishes to see where he is buried. He claims it is a Terran tradition.”

 

Amanda knows her face is doing something it shouldn’t be doing, but Spock doesn’t seem to notice.

 

“Of course, Spock. Just be home before your Father returns.”

 

Spock nods and glances at Jimmy, who immediately sets down his own teacup and gets to his feet.

 

“It is nice to see you again, Lady Amanda,” he offers, smile sweet. “I promise I will not get Spock into any trouble.”

 

“Of course not.” Amanda starts to collect their teacups. “But still, be careful.”

 

“Yes, Mother.”

 

“Sure thing, Lady Amanda.”

 

She waits until she’s certain the boys are gone, then fumbles for her Comm.

 

“Hello, Lady Amanda.”

 

“Sybok, your brother has a bond with Jimmy Kirk.”

 

“You think— that’s unlikely, Lady Amanda,” Sybok says, frowning at the screen. “You know from your own bonding that it’s highly improbable for an interspecies bond to form organically.”

 

“I know, but— Sybok, I cannot explain it to you. They were so— if it were not so impossible, I would say they were communicating telepathically.”

 

“That’s impossible.” Sybok looks over her worried face on the screen and sighs. “Not impossible. But if you are correct in that they have some sort of bond, I doubt it’s strong enough that they could be communicating.”

 

Amanda sighs.

 

“I’ll ask your father what he thinks,” she says, and yes, Sarek will be able to calm her down more easily than he ever could. “But— look into it for me, please? I know my own bonding was a difficult process, but there has to be some sort of study conducted on the subject of interspecies bonds, and I— it would put my mind at ease.”

 

While she’s not wrong— there have been studies on the subject, though it mostly was focused on why such partnerships failed— Sybok thinks it will be unlikely that he will find anything that will truly make her feel better.

 

He nods anyway.

 

“Of course, Lady Amanda.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


The little stone is polished smooth and the color of rose wine, with I’Chaya’s name carved into its face with what Jimmy assumes was a laser.

 

“It’s pretty,” he says at last. “I’m sorry he died.”

 

“All things must die, James,” Spock says. “It is simply the way of things.”

 

“Still, I’Chaya was your friend. You can miss him, even if the reason he’s gone is natural.”

 

Spock peers at his friend a moment, then nods.

 

“You are correct in this matter, James,” he says. “However, Vulcans do not feel—”

 

“Bull! I saw the look on your face when we got here.”

 

“If you would allow me to finish my statement,” Spock admonishes lightly. Jimmy grumbles. “As I was explaining, Vulcans do not feel emotion as Humans do. Our entire lives are dedicated to the control of irrational thoughts and feelings.”

 

“I know that, Spock. I live with Vulcans, remember?”

 

“In which case, when I say ‘I do not miss I’Chaya’, do you understand what I mean?”

 

Jimmy frowns.

 

“You know, shorthand isn’t very Vulcan,” he says. “And skipping the second half of ‘I refuse to miss I’Chaya because I understand that all things die and I have to accept that’ is kinda like shorthand.”

 

“Speaking of emotions is not Vulcan,” Spock says. “Even if I have not accepted I’Chaya’s death, it is impolite to speak of such things amongst Vulcans.”

 

“Oh.” Jimmy eyes him for a moment. “Well, I’m not a Vulcan.”

 

“Indeed you are not.”

 

“So it’s okay if you talk about those sorts of things with me.”

 

“I—” Spock hesitates. “In most cases, it is still considered preferable to remain silent about personal emotional upheaval.”

 

“But it’s me.”

 

“I am taking that into account.”

 

“So: Spock, do you miss I’Chaya?”

 

Spock goes quiet, brow furrowing as he scrutinizes the blond that seems so certain of himself.

 

He relents.

 

“I do, James.”

 

Jimmy’s smile is an odd cross between triumph and sadness.

 

“Yeah, I thought so,” he says. He turns his attention to the gravestone, patting it gently. “It was nice seeing you, I’Chaya. We’re going to go now, okay?”

 

“James, He cannot hear you.”

 

“ _ Spock _ .”

 

“Yes?” There’s annoyance, exasperation, maybe a little bit of humor, all sliding along the edge of Spock’s psyche. He pays it no mind, simply focusing his attention on Jimmy’s ruddy face.

 

“Help me up.”

 

Jimmy reaches up with one arm, and— and Spock doesn’t think about it. He reaches out, hand clasping around Jimmy’s and tightening to lever the younger boy to his feet.

 

“Thanks, Spock,” Jimmy says, letting go after a beat too long. He doesn’t seem to notice, though, patting dust from the back of his pants. “We should probably head back.”

 

Spock feels strange— sort of, buoyant, like he might float away at any moment. Of course, that’s impossible, but Spock feels it anyway.

 

“Spock?”

 

The Vulcan blinks.

 

“Yes, James?”

 

“Are we going back?”

 

“I— yes. This way.” Spock pauses, then holds out his arm for Jimmy to take. Jimmy’s hand slides into its customary position around his wrist. Then, it slides down.

 

“You know, I forgot that gravity’s different on Vulcan,” he remarks as they walk back, hand pinched around the first two joints of Spock’s first three fingers. “My arms feel heavier.”

 

“Do they?” Spock remarks absently. “I feel quite light.”

 

Jimmy grins.

 

“That’s because I’m here.”

 

Spock thinks he might have a point about that.

  
  


*.*

  
  


“Sarek, have you noticed anything…  _ strange _ , about Jimmy and Spock?”

 

Sarek blinks at his wife. Sarek has never really understood the expression ‘looks fit to burst’, but he thinks, at least mentally, that it may be a suitable phrase to describe Amanda.

 

“Have you?” he asks, because in such cases, he’s found the most effective strategy is to allow her to release her thoughts and feelings through prompted conversation.

 

“It is—” she shakes her head and starts again, this time in Standard. “Jimmy and Spock seem a little… too attuned to each other. They understand each other so easily, I can’t help but think they’re— that they’re bonded.”

 

Sarek nods calmly.

 

“You are quite correct,” he agrees. “It is evident that they have formed some sort of link.”

 

Amanda freezes, mouth open for an explanation she apparently doesn’t have to give.

 

“You— you agree with me?”

 

“Of course— they exhibited beginnings of such a link during Mr. Kirk’s last visit.” Sarek folds his hands in his lap. “I believe it is a bond similar to what Sybok has with his former classmate Storek.”

 

“A—  _ telsu _ bond?” Amanda’s eyes widen. “My son called dibs on his best friend and you didn’t think to tell me?”

 

“Amanda, you know the bonds of others are not considered an acceptable topic of conversation." Sarek says that like it’s going to stop the anger he feels building up on the other side of their bond.

 

"I am his Mother, Sarek. I’m supposed to know when he reaches these sorts of milestones!"

 

"It was not my place to point it out—"

 

"Of course it is, Sarek! You’re his father." Amanda sighs, attempting to collect herself because anger has yet to win her an argument against her husband. "Humans— particularly Human Mothers— are nosy when it comes to their offspring. We want to know everything that’s going on in their lives, regardless of their age or independence of us. We’ve had this conversation before."

 

They have. Sarek only wonders at what point does it occur to a Human that such nosiness may lead to discoveries they might find uncomfortable.

 

"I was unsure their bond would last James returning to the Farragut," he admits. "I thought it might, but I was not certain… I did not want to give you false hope."

 

And just like that, Amanda deflates.

 

"I’m still angry," she informs him, and yes, she is. Sarek can feel it. "But… I suppose I understand."

 

"Their bond is strong if it has remained despite so long without contact," Sarek notes. "Our son has a strong friend."

 

"A Human friend," Amanda adds. "I called Sybok— he says it’s highly unlikely that such a bond can form."

 

A logical thing for Amanda to do, considering his son’s apparent preference for the subject of Vulcan bonds.

 

"He is correct, as far as I am aware," Sarek agrees. "It is a testament to Spock’s telepathic strength and their combined compatibility. James has a strong mind. It is not so surprising."

 

Amanda smiles.

 

"He’s a sweet boy," she says. "I like him."

 

"That is preferable," Sarek says "considering our son’s reluctance to part with him."

 

Amanda laughs— Sarek is… 'off the hook'. A phrase likening him to a Terran fish escaping its death is rather practical, in this case.

 

"I’m happy our son has a friend," she says. "Jimmy’s illogical understanding of the world will do wonders for Spock’s learning curve— particularly as an Ambassador’s son."

 

_ Or it could land them both with another Sybok _ , Sarek thinks, suppressing a shudder.

 

Now that is an uneasy thought.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Spock wakes up to hands shoving into his side and a voice saying,

 

"Spock, move over—  _ Jesus Christ _ , you’re heavy!"

 

"The Son of God has nothing to do with my general mass," Spock says as he shifts, making room for the smaller boy to lie down beside him. "Jesus Christ is a fictitious remnant of an illogical religion."

 

"Yeah, but he makes for good emphasis," Jimmy says. "Hey, have you ever seen Jesus Christ Superstar? Stupid question, of course you haven’t. Well, it’s a musical by the guy who did Phantom of the Opera, and it’s basically a weird, post-apocalyptic surrealist piece focused on Jesus’ mental state during the events leading up to his getting crucified, and—"

 

He was well and truly rambling now. Spock clearly recalls every comm that went on for far too long. The Vulcan prides himself for his skill in pinpointing when James’ speech shifts from excited chatter to full on rant.

 

"James," Spock interrupts patiently. "What are you doing in my bed?"

 

Jimmy’s quiet for a moment.

 

"I’m not used to sleeping alone," he says after a moment. "I’ve always shared a room with my brother or Mommy. It’s weird being alone in such a big room."

 

Oh. Spock supposes that is… logical. As far as Jimmy’s concerned, anyway.

 

"While we are not required to wake at a specific time, I would prefer to wake before breakfast," Spock says. "It is imperative we eat before our hike."

 

"Yeah, I know." Jimmy scoots closer, until he’s pressed into Spock’s side. "I’ll conk out soon, I’m sure— but, Jesus Christ Superstar is a classic. You have to watch it with me sometime— wait, how familiar are you with the Christian Mythos?"

 

"I have familiarized myself with it since you sent me  _ The Boondock Saints _ ."

 

"Another classic! Well, good."

 

Jimmy keeps talking, until his words start to slur and his body goes limp against Spock’s. He falls asleep mid-sentence, head tucked against Spock’s shoulder. The situation is familiar, and it is comfortable.

 

Spock falls asleep soon after.

  
  


*.*

  
  


It is a rare occurrence that Spock is still in his room when Amanda sets the table for breakfast. Sarek admits to some curiosity when he goes to wake his son.

 

He knocks, and there is no answer. He knocks again, just in case, and pushes open the door quietly.

 

Apparently, some time in the night, Jimmy decided to raid his son’s room. The blond is sprawled across three quarters of the bed and yet still has managed to situate most of his upper body atop Spock.

 

His surprise must have been enough, because a moment later, Amanda appeared at his shoulder.

 

“What—”

 

Sarek presses a finger to his lips. She peers into the room and smiles.

 

“Oh, they’re so  _ sweet _ ,” she whispers. “Wait, I need—” she pulls out her communicator and focuses the camera. “Winona needs to see this.”

 

Sarek doesn’t think Spock will appreciate his mother spreading holos of him sleeping, but her delight is enough that he leaves it be.

 

“I believe they will be late to breakfast,” he says as they make their way back to the kitchen.

 

“Don’t worry— I’ll make sure to save them something.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


All in all, Amanda sees very little of the children for the first week. Spock keeps Jimmy occupied, apparently sensing his friend’s restless nature, and they spend much of their time roaming the outskirts of their home. After dinner, they’ll usually play a game of kal-toh (which Spock usually wins, though Jimmy’s getting better every game) or 3D chess, a new hobby Jimmy claims he picked up from Number One— the First Officer that appears to have no name.

 

(Spock usually wins that, too, though on occasion Jimmy manages to wrangle a win that has Spock’s eyebrows disappear into his bangs.)

 

And then, a dust storm hits.

 

They aren’t uncommon, on Vulcan, though it isn’t the best timing considering Jimmy’s apparent need to constantly be moving. Luckily, Spock has a solution to that, too— he declares an interest in some of the holos Jimmy brought with him.

 

Of course, Jimmy’s onboard immediately.

 

“Oh, I brought some great ones,” he says as Spock steers him towards his bedroom. “ _ Star Wars _ is a must— we can knock that out in like, seven hours. Or we could do  _ Lord of the Rings _ ! That takes about nine hours, but it is so worth it—”

 

“I am sure whatever you choose will be acceptable,” Spock says quietly. “But if we are going to dedicate so much time to this endeavor, I believe you must choose quickly.”

 

“ _ Lord of the Rings _ it is, then,” Jimmy says. “They’re solid adaptations— not perfect, but pretty good.”

 

Amanda likes that Jimmy talks so much. With all the— all the  _ illogic _ that comes out of his mouth, Spock is obligated to answer. She doesn’t think she’s ever heard her son talk so much to someone who isn’t in some way a relative.

 

She’s going to miss having the little Human around.

 

Four hours later, it’s time for lunch, so Amanda goes to call the boys.

 

She’s treated to an eyeful.

 

“Oh! I—” she covers her eyes with a hand. “Sorry.”

 

Jimmy pauses the holo with his free hand—  _ the hand that isn’t laced with Spock’s _ — and looks up in confusion.

 

“Oh, it’s alright— we’re only like, halfway through _ Two Towers _ ,” he says. “Is it time for lunch?”

 

“I— yes, I thought you two might be hungry.” She drops her hand, glances at their tangled fingers and looks away again, focusing firmly on the wall just above their heads.

 

“Starving,” Jimmy agrees. “Come on, Spock.”

 

The blond gets to his feet, hand slipping away from Spock’s—  _ finally _ — and Spock follows.

 

“Mother, are you alright?” Spock inquires, brow furrowed. It seems Jimmy’s made him better at reading faces— he’s caught her reaction.

 

“Do not worry, Spock— I just did not expect to— see that.”

 

“See what, Mother?” Spock asks, uncomprehending, almost like he didn’t realize what he and Jimmy had been— oh.  _ Oh _ .

 

Amanda takes a breath, smoothing her expression into something like a smile.

 

“Nothing,” she says. “Lunch is getting cold.”

 

And with that, she turns on her heel and escapes back to the safety of the kitchen.

 

She thinks they can take their food with them back to the bedroom. They’ve still got movies to watch, after all.

  
  


*.*

  
  


“Sybok, my son is married.”

 

“What?”

 

“Spock is  _ married _ .”

 

Sybok isn’t fully awake— he’s had a long couple of nights. So it makes that what Lady Amanda says doesn’t quite compute.

 

“We knew that, I thought,” he says with a groan as he sits up, careful not to jostle his bedmate. “I mean, considering his bonding ceremony didn’t take—”

 

“Yes, but I know who he’s married to!” Amanda days agitatedly. “It’s Jimmy Kirk!”

 

Sybok blinks.

 

“You know how you called earlier this week about this subject and I said it was highly improbable?” he says. “Well, what you’re saying now is actually pretty close to  _ impossible _ .”

 

“Your father said what they had was  _ telsu _ .” Amanda tells him. “But I walked in on them today to call them for lunch— Sybok, they were  _ holding hands _ .”

 

Oh. Well, that’s embarrassing.

 

“Spock isn’t old enough for— well, actually, he’s right about that age,” Sybok amends thoughtfully. “But, Lady Amanda, a Vulcan’s first pon farr doesn’t require their mate. If they aren’t available, anyone will do.”

 

“You think I don’t know that?” she hisses. “I know that! But Sybok— look!”

 

The camera of her comm flips, and Sybok sees, first hand, his brother absent-mindedly stroking the palm of a blond boy that could be none other that James Tiberius Kirk.

 

“Oh, come on!” Sybok turns the screen away quickly. “I didn’t need to see that, Lady Amanda.”

 

“They don’t even seem to notice they’re doing it!” Lady Amanda’s voice is muffled by his hand pressed over the speaker. “I had the same reaction, and they were  _ confused _ .”

 

Which, okay, maybe Jimmy— a Human relatively well-versed in Vulcan etiquette but Human nonetheless— wouldn’t understand, but Spock…

 

“I need to go look something up,” Sybok says abruptly, pushing himself out of bed. “How long is Jimmy staying?”

 

“Until the end of the week. Sybok, your father is on Earth for a conference—”

 

“That’s fine. I’ll be home in three days.”

 

“Don’t you have exams?”

 

“I’ll be home in three days,” he repeats. “We’ll talk about it then. If it’s what I believe it is, Lady Amanda…”

 

“What, Sybok?”

 

“If it’s what I think it is, my dissertation is going to be  _ amazing _ .”

  
  


*.*

  
  


“ _ T’hy’la _ .”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You mean—”

 

“ _ Yes _ .”

 

Amanda takes a deep breath.

 

“So what you’re saying is… my son apparently taken part in an ancient bond with a Human he barely gets to see.”

 

“You say ‘taken part’ as though he had any choice in the matter.” Sybok flicks a lock of too-long hair out of his eyes. “It happens completely naturally, and completely spontaneously, based solely on mental and emotional compatibility. It’s considered to be the most sacred of bonds, Lady Amanda, and is certainly the rarest.”

 

She sighs, rubbing her temples tiredly.

 

“So, what do we do?”

 

“I don’t understand the question.”

 

“The boys obviously don’t know— I mean, Spock didn’t even realize he was going through pon farr, for God’s sake. Who’s going to tell them? Who’s going to tell Sarek?”

 

“You know it’s rude to point out bonds— they have to figure that part out on their own, if they haven’t already—”

 

“They haven’t.”

 

“— And as for Father, well. I think that at this age, he might prefer if Spock breaks the bond.”

 

“I thought you just said this bond was considered sacred.”

 

“Yes, but Jimmy’s Human, Lady Amanda, and with the trouble Spock already has due to his half-Human status, Father might think it prudent to have him bonded to a Vulcan.”

 

Amanda makes a face, but doesn’t argue. Her husband is a practical man, and he loathes to see the way his son is treated.

 

“Sybok, I’m not good at keeping secrets.”

 

“It is not a secret. You are simply being polite.”

 

“This is going to end badly, Sybok.”

 

“Honestly, this might be a turning point for Vulcan culture,” Sybok says thoughtfully. “We believe ourselves to be such a superior species, but in the end we are just as easily matched with one not of our number. The Science Academy is going to piss itself.”

 

“Sybok, no.”

 

“I won’t publish right away! My dissertation’s not for another few years— plenty of time for Spock and Jimmy to grow up enough to give consent.”

 

“Sybok,  _ no _ .”

 

“We’ll talk about it another time— as it stands, I cannot be certain that this is in fact  _ t’hy’la _ — I’ll need to observe them to be sure. It may just be a run of the mill marriage bond— those happen by accident on occasion, as well.” He grins. “This is all so  _ fascinating _ .”

 

“Which part? The bond, the interspecies bond,  the ancient sacred interspecies bond that Sarek may want broken should he find out about it before Spock is considered a legal adult, or the sacred interspecies bond that Sarek may want broken and may cause your little brother’s life on Vulcan to turn into hell on Vulcan before he can actually defend himself against his own people?”

 

Sybok thinks about that for a moment, smile dimming.

 

“... Fuck.”

 

“You said it, Sybok.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Spock wakes up in the middle of the night with the feeling that his chest is too tight. It’s a frightening feeling, more than enough to startle him out of unconsciousness.

 

Ragged breathing echoes in the darkness of his room. It doesn’t take him a moment to realize where it’s coming from.

 

“James?”

 

Blue eyes shine in the half-light of the night stars, wide and panicked. His mouth moves to Spock’s name, but the only sound he makes is a harsh wheeze.

 

“James!”

 

Jimmy catches him by the hand, grip weak as he tries to move it towards his face. Spock understands— he presses his fingers to Jimmy’s psi points. He doesn’t bother with the words this time.

 

Jimmy’s head is a mess of panic and problems and solutions. Spock doesn’t bother sorting so much as  _ pushing _ , shoving aside anything that isn’t the answer he needs to  _ make Jim breathe _ .

 

And then he finds it. A box of hypos buried at the bottom of Jimmy’s suitcase.

 

Spock has never moved so quickly in his life. Still, it feels like hours between his leaving the bed and the hiss of the hypo against Jimmy’s neck.

 

A painful beat of silence passes, then another. Spock reaches up to press back into Jimmy’s mind.

 

Relief. Exasperation. Dejection. Jimmy is unhappy with himself for allowing his— his  _ allergy _ , of all things—  to go untreated for as long as he had, resulting in his current state of breathlessness.

 

He calls it breathlessness. This illogical, _ moron _ of a Human is calling nearly suffocating in his sleep… _ breathlessness. _

 

Jimmy’s breathing is better. His heartbeat is still a little fast, but otherwise, he’s alright.

 

“It was the storm,” he wheezes. “Kicked up something that messed with me.”

 

“I require a list of your allergies from this point on,” Spock informs him. “So I am prepared for the next time you decide to hide your reactions.”

 

Jimmy tries to laugh. It looks painful.

 

“It’s a long list, Spock,” he says, resigned. “And it keeps getting bigger.”

 

“I still would like a copy.”

 

“... Sure. Can we sleep now?”

 

“You may rest. I will be here.”

 

Jimmy falls asleep quickly, but Spock doesn’t. Instead, he watches the sunrise from his bed, one hand absently carding through Jimmy’s hair. The realization dawns on him just as he sees the sun.

 

The rest of his acquaintance with Jimmy— meaning the rest of his life, because he doesn’t think he could ever get rid of Jimmy now that he has him— is going to be spent trying to keep him alive.

 

There are worse tasks.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Jimmy isn’t crying. He  _ isn’t _ .

 

It’s another allergic reaction. A response to the dust particles still floating in the air.

 

That’s what he tells Spock, anyway, even though he knows Spock knows he’s been dosing himself with hypos twice a day since his lungs crapped out on him.

 

(Spock’s nice enough not to mention it, though, even when Jimmy spends the last half hour before his Mother comes to pick him up with his wet face pressed into the thin fabric of Spock’s sleep shirt.)

 

“You will visit again soon,” Spock says soothingly, except it doesn’t sound soothing so much as it’s a fact of life. Jimmy will be back on Vulcan before long. Spock’s sure of it.

 

Spock is better at comforting than anyone realizes. He himself was previously unaware.

 

His Mother materializes at the steps of the house, in almost the same spot where Jimmy appeared two weeks ago. Her arrival isn’t as pleasant to Spock as Jimmy’s was, but there is nothing he can do to change it.

 

Amanda kisses Jimmy’s cheek before he goes to meet his mother. Sybok gives him a nod and a knowing look. Spock gives him a hug. It’s awkward, like he doesn’t know how to initiate such a Human act, but he manages just fine.

 

“Goodbye, James.”

 

Jimmy sniffs— his nose is running because of the dust, not because he’s crying.

 

“Bye, Spock.”

  
Spock’s ta’al is the last thing he sees before he’s taken by the light of the transporter beam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the end of this one, folks. But don't fret, there is a much larger series in the works.
> 
> Part 2 on its way soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Find us on tumblr:  
> [not-freyja](https://not-freyja.tumblr.com) and [straight-outta-hobbiton](https://straight-outta-hobbiton.tumblr.com)
> 
> The playlist for this fic can be found [here.](https://8tracks.com/starhobbit/adventure-is-out-there#smart_id=dj:16203706)


End file.
